


Prompt: Three ways through.

by EssayOfThoughts



Series: MCU Maximoff Oneshots [18]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Discussions of grief, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Recovery, discussion of religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 00:06:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5518109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EssayOfThoughts/pseuds/EssayOfThoughts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wanda meets Jessica by accident, Luke on a tip, and Matt on purpose. Grief and gifts, and how they can intertwine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prompt: Three ways through.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SecondStarOnTheLeft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondStarOnTheLeft/gifts).



> Rakija is the name for [grappa/raki](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tsikoudia) in Bulgarian, Serbian and Croatian, and I _think_ the likely term Wanda would use to refer to it. That said there are a _bunch_ of terms for it and also I am terrible at Geography. I also acknowledge there is a _bit_ of stretched probability here, but if I had not stretched this, it would have been much much longer.
> 
> This was written for a prompt, readable on my tumblr [Here](http://essayofthoughts.tumblr.com/post/135852600130/wanda-talking-to-matt-and-to-jessica-and-to-luke). Comments are always welcome.

 

* * *

**1\. Jessica Jones**

* * *

 

 **1.i.**  
Wanda meets Jessica first and it’s entirely by accident. 

She had been walking in New York, finally trusted enough to go without a constant companion or tail. She was largely ignored, her scarlet snaking into the minds of those around her asking _please leave me be._ One man gave her a decent berth, and instead shouldered past another woman. Wanda watched the woman’s mind flare, an image of a punch, an image of a woman in front of a lorry, an image of a car crash and the woman was leaning against the wall breathing hard.

“Are you alright?” Wanda spreads her scarlet further, turns _please leave me be_  into  _leave us be_ , and gently reaches toward the woman. 

A hand comes up, almost covered by the sleeve of the woman’s leather jacket. “Don’t touch me.” 

Wanda’s hands slip into her own pockets. “Flashback?” she asks, instead.

The woman looks up to her, and Wanda thinks her pretty but for what seems likely to be a constant frown. “What would you know about that?”

Scarlet-jacketed shoulders shrug. “I have my own. I guessed. I saw your mind.”

The look the woman gives her is something between “ _of course_ ” and “ _god help me_ ”, but morphs into a frown again. “Stay out of my head.”

“I was,” Wanda says. “I see minds regardless of if I’m in them or not.” She pauses, thinks of what Pietro had said when she had first told him that, before he had done his best to wrap her mind with his. “It sucks.”

The woman laughs, just slightly, and Wanda smiles. “Superpowers do, don’t they?”

Wanda’s smile widens. “I’m Wanda,” she says, and offers her hand.

The woman eyes her, tilts her head back to get her hair out of her eyes and takes her hand. “Jessica,” she says. “Jessica Jones.”

 

* * *

 

 **1.ii.**  
Jessica, Wanda learns, is a P.I., and a decent one at that. She has super strength, and an ex-boyfriend with impenetrable skin, and another who she’d killed a month back after he’d tried to mind control her again. 

“It’s why,” Jessica says, waving fingers towards her skull, “I don’t like people in my head. ‘s fucking creepy.” In her mind Wanda can see memories, tinged with a deep purple and a sickening thread of _nononononononono_  as Jessica’s body does things Jessica’s mind did not tell it to do.

“I have a teammate like that,” Wanda admits. “He tased me when I tried to touch his mind.”

Jessica almost barks a laugh, and slams her hand on the bar. “Good on him,” she says. “He have it happen before, then?”

Wanda nods. “Loki,” she says. “The Battle of New York, just before it.”

“Jesus,” Jessica says. “That must be some trauma.”

Wanda frowns, bites her lip. “The memories are like a bruise in his mind but other than that, he… He  _seems_ quite well adjusted.”

“And your mind-mojo is infallible?” Jessica asks. Once again Wanda shrugs.

 

* * *

 

 **1.iii.**  
They are three drinks in before Wanda asks, “The memories. The ones I saw after that man walked into you, seeing people killed in front of you, losing family. How do-”

“How do I deal with it?” Jessica interrupts, and signals the barkeeper for a refill. She raises her shotglass, amber whiskey glowing in the soft lights. “I drink.”

Wanda turns her shotglass of vodka between her fingers. “I’ve tried that. Natasha stole my vodka after the second day, and my rakija.”

Jessica chuckles. “Trish tried that once. Now I go to bars when she does.”

Wanda is quiet, turning the glass between her fingers, and watching the liquid swirl against the sides.

 

* * *

 

 **1.iv.**  
“What happened?” Jessica asks, when they are seven shots in. “What’s got you torn up inside?”

Wanda is spinning her present glass of vodka, not between her fingers but absent-mindedly with her scarlet. “My brother,” she says, and it is barely a whisper. “He died. I felt him die.”

There is a look on Jessica’s face as though she wants to swear, but instead she removes Wanda’s glass from her scarlet and presses it to her hand. “Superpowers,” she says, and her smile is wry. “They _suck_.”

Wanda’s laugh is not quite true, but she downs the shot with Jessica, and asks for another.

 

* * *

 

 **1.v.**  
They are ten shots in when Wanda asks, “Your family. Do you still miss them?”

“Every day,” Jessica replies, lifting her glass. “Until I start drinking.”

“Our parents died when we were ten,” Wanda says, not noticing she has slipped into plurals. “Pietro remembered them better than I did.”

Jessica is quiet, and taps her fingers over the wood of the bar. “When did you lose him?” she asks, voice soft.

Wanda thinks. Wanda counts. “In May,” she says. “The sixth.”

“It will hurt,” Jessica says, and it is a promise and an apology. “It will hurt forever.”

 

* * *

  **2\. Luke Cage**  

* * *

 

 **2.i.**  
She meets Luke after Jessica. An address slipped from one woman to the other, a small bar, well managed and clean, and Wanda was not sure what to make of it. She slides onto a stool, looks around, and is almost startled when the man asks her what she’d like. 

“Vodka,” she says, “Or rakija if you have it.”

“We have vodka,” the man says, reaching beneath the bar, “And rakomelo, if that’s close enough?”

Wanda shakes her head. “Too sweet. Vodka, please.”

The man smiles slightly and sets down a glass. “How strong?”

Wanda smiles slightly at the images of the different bottles dancing in his mind. “Strong enough to blind someone,” she says.

 

* * *

 

 **2.ii.**  
Wanda is on her second shot and the bar is still empty when the man asks, “So what brought you here?”

“A friend,” Wanda says, “Sort of. She recommended it.”

The man is wiping down the bar at the far end, but his voice is still clear enough to be heard. “This friend have a name?”

“Jessica,” Wanda says, and spots the rising image coming from the man’s mind. “Yes, the one you’re thinking of.”

“How the hell you know that?”

Wanda tries not to smile, tries to be serious, but cannot. “I can read minds.”

 

* * *

 

 **2.iii.**  
There is silence for a moment before the purple man in Jessica’s mind appears in this man’s and he points a finger at Wanda. “You stay out of my head.”

“I am,” Wanda says. “I cannot help what I see just watching.” She is quiet for a moment, but the man still seems unconvinced. “It gives me headaches,” she offers, “To watch constantly and to go in people’s minds too much. The only exception was my brother and he is… he is gone.”

The man humphs slightly and starts moving back down the bar, wiping surfaces down as he goes. “New York battle?” he asks, “Or one of the other crazy ones the Avengers bring about?”

“Novi Grad,” Wanda says quietly. “The Battle of Novi Grad. Your news calls it the battle of Sokovia, but it only truly covered half the city.”

The face the man pulls is midway between a frown and bemusement. “Makes sense,” he says. “White news anchors always like to claim they’re more important than they are.”

Wanda cannot help herself and smiles. “I’m Wanda,” she says. “Wanda Maximoff.”

“Luke,” the barman says. “Luke Cage.”

 

* * *

 

 **2.iv.**  
After that they are quiet. Introductions aside and bar mostly empty there is little to speak of. Wanda drinks slowly, other people pop in, pop out, speak scattered words to Luke and vanish off again after a usually cheerful farewell from the barman.

“Why’re you here?” Luke asks eventually. “Why did Jessica send you here? ‘Cause you’re superpowered like us, ‘cause you’re fucked up, 'cause-”

“Because,” Wanda says, gently interrupting. “I have a gift and I have grief and they are interlinked.” She spins the glass between her fingers, then downs its contents. “I was still linked to my brother’s mind when he died.”

“Right,” Luke says, and removes the glasses in front of her. “For a start, you should stop drinking. Jessica is not a good role model for dealing with grief or trauma.”

Wanda’s smile is almost distracted as she watches the curling pale gold affection reach from Luke’s mind around a memory of Jessica. “But you still care about her, and she about you.”

“Well,” Luke says. “We’ve been through some shit together. Kilgrave for one.”

For a moment Wanda is confused and then, “The purple man? All of your and Jessica’s memories of him are touched with purple, like the suit he wore.”

Luke nods, “That’s him. Mind controlling dick.” He wipes the bar in front of Wanda down, almost absently, then turns to a tap in the corner to pour a glass of water. “However,” he says, setting the glass down in front of Wanda, “We’re not talking about that. We’re talking about how drinking to forget your sorrows doesn’t work.”

Wanda’s scarlet plays out from her fingers, wrapping around the glass moments before her fingers. “What does, then?”

“Therapy,” Luke says, “But neither Jessica or I go in for that. Coming to terms with it on your own. Learning to fight so you can protect you and yours if it happens again.”

“There’s only me now,” Wanda murmurs. “The team can protect themselves and they… They are not my brother. My brother was… he was half of me.”

There is silence for a moment, and Luke gently prods the glass in Wanda’s loose grip more firmly into her hands. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Its never easy to lose those you love.”

 

* * *

**3\. Matt Murdock**

* * *

 

 **3.i.**  
Matt Murdock she meets on purpose. Natasha recommends him, when Wanda asks after a lawyer to help her, with accounts and a will for herself and to look over her contracts with S.H.I.E.L.D.-That-Is. Wanda captures the address rising from Natasha’s mind even as the spy writes it down, and captures the image which follows, of the man with red glasses.

“He’s good,” Natasha promises, “And honest, and he’ll do what good he can.”

Wanda does not know what she expects from his mind when she goes to meet him, but it is not a world on fire.

 

* * *

 

 **3.ii.**  
It is hard to talk to Matt Murdock, when she is constantly watching the flames rising from his mind. They are not burning, just as the snow in Natasha’s mind is not cold, and the winds of her brother’s mind never pushed her. But they leap and crackle and change and sometimes Wanda thinks she can make out faces in the flames.

“Are you alright?” he asks, after the third time she has been distracted. His voice is soft and pleasant, and Wanda almost nods before she remembers he is blind.

“Just distracted,” she says instead, and Murdock rises, reaching for his cane.

“Would you like to join me for a walk?” he asks. “I haven’t been to church in a while, and it’s much more peaceful than here.”

Wanda pauses, rises. “I’m not religious,” she says, as a warning, offering him her arm. “And even when I was, I was not Christian.”

Murdock only smiles, and gently takes her arm. “You don’t have to be religious to appreciate the peace of the church,” he says, “And you don’t have to be Christian to be welcome there.”

“Church-goers have burned down Synagogues before.”

She almost misses how Murdock inclines his head. “True enough,” he says as they walk out of the building. “But I can promise no one will try to hurt you where we’re going.”

 

* * *

 

 **3.iii.**  
The church is large and quiet, and Wanda recognises aspects of it’s shape in the formation of the cathedral she crafted around the synagogue foundations of her mind. _Faith shaped me_ , she remembers, _But not the one I show to others_. Murdock walks with her to a pew, and Wanda gently makes sure he is able to manoeuvre in. In all the chaos of Sokovia Wanda had rarely seen a true example of deafening silence, but the church holds it, silent ranks upon silent ranks of pews, soft breezes and the hanging chandeliers, the only real noise the soft sound of prayer and on person speaking quietly in a box to one side.

“What was distracting you?” Murdock’s voice is soft, and barely echoes over the stone and through the silence. Wanda is not entirely certain of what to say but eventually:

“Your mind,” she says. “It looks like it’s on fire.”

Murdock seems surprised. “So,” he says. “When you said you were recommended  _Nelson & Murdock_ by a teammate, you meant a super-teammate.”

“Natasha,” Wanda confirms. “Agent Romanoff, Black Widow. Yes.”

He chuckles. “So now we’re on government payroll. Sort of.”

“No,” Wanda says. “Just mine. But S.H.I.E.l.D.-That-Is keeps an eye on you. New and honest, Natasha said. They may try to hire you.”

“Last people to try to put us on retainer turned out to be working for Fisk,” Murdock says, “and trying to burn down the whole of Hell’s Kitchen. Not going to happen.” Wanda sees the fires of his mind flare like a beacon, marking the memory a certainty and truth. “The right thing,” Murdock says, “Is not always the easy one.”

Wanda remembers how she had wished to die after the battle, and how the only thing to hold her back had been the idea of Pietro’s disapproval. “Yes,” she says, in lieu of anything else. “Yes, that’s true.”

 

* * *

 

 **3.iv.**  
They are quiet for a while. The person who had been speaking in the box to one side emerges, and a few minutes later so too does a man with a priest’s collar. Murdock leans slightly towards Wanda as the man walks towards them, past them.

“That’s Father Lantom. He’s good company for moral quandaries.”

“Moral…. How many moral quandaries do you get into?”

Murdock smiles. “More than you might think.” Rising from the flames of his mind are memories of pain, of punches, of bones breaking, cuts being made.

“You hurt people,” Wanda breathes, and then another memory rises from his mind. “You’re the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.”

 

* * *

 

 **3.v.**  
The flurry of memories that arise when Wanda says that aloud give her pause for several moments. People hurt, people being hurt, hurting people, training, feeling blood and a face that Murdock’s mind identifies as _father_  and, suddenly, vision, sight in bright technicolour, of watching another man called Murdock fighting in a ring. Words float through Murdock’s mind. _Be careful of the Murdock boys. They’ve got the devil in them._

“How do you do that?” Wanda asks. “How do you do that and still believe?”

Murdock shrugs. “I do,” he says. “I just do. How do you see all you have and  _not_  believe?”

“Bombs,” Wanda says, “When my brother and I were ten. One killed our parents and the other stayed there, taunting us in the rubble until we were rescued. Try to believe after watching your whole city be torn apart, hearing your country dying.”

“I’ve done the first,” Murdock says. “I fight against that every night and day.”

“ _How?_ ” Wanda asks, but she does not know what she expects of a response.

“Because I don’t think God would want the world to burn when people like us can stop it,” Murdock says, and his mind is ringing with the note of _tenet_. “Because God commands that we love our fellow man as we would love ourselves.”

“What if the love we had for ourselves is gone?”

They are quiet. The candles at the front flicker. The wind blows softly down the nave. “Then,” Murdock says, “You need to learn how to be yourself, and how to love yourself.”

Wanda does not know how to express that that is impossible, and scarlet begins to reach out without her asking. “May I…?” she asks. “I need to show you something, something I cannot say.”

Murdock smile slightly. “Don’t put out the fire.”

Wanda’s fingers stretch towards him and her scarlet shows him what she cannot say.

 

* * *

 

 **3.vi.**  
Matt is silent. “So,” he says eventually, “Your brother and you were as much one person as you were individuals.”

“Yes,” Wanda says. “In simple terms, yes.”

“And with you in his mind and he in yours losing him was like losing yourself.”

Wanda’s head tilts forward. “Yes.”

“Then,” Matt says, “I’ll tell you what I do.” Wanda can see the vague shape of it, swirling in his mind, _guilt_  and _right_  and _wrong_  and _what is right?_  twisting around each other. “Hold onto yourself. Whatever remains. Decide what you won’t do. Decide what those you’ve lost would want of you. Live for their memory, as much as for yourself and if you feel yourself slipping… come have a talk.” He smiles. “With  _Nelson & Murdock_ as your lawyers our door will always be open to you.”

 

* * *

 


End file.
